Parallel Parking
by Laura W
Summary: A little vignette inspired by a tumblr alternate universe prompt. Just a bit of silly J/C fluff in which the characters are barely recognizable as themselves. (Because writing a meet-cute for these two seems mundane and even redundant, given how crazy their actual meeting was.) Rated T for a bit of language.


**NOTE** : So. A/U tumblr prompts. Once in a while they knock me out of a funk. This one's from last summer, but I never posted it. Enjoy.

 **The prompt** : You drive a massive SUV and steal my parking spot all the time and I was just heading out to leave a strongly worded note under your windshield wiper but oh no you're hot AU

 **"** **Parallel Parking"**

On Friday night, it was there again.

The biggest-ass SUV he'd ever seen, one of those really ostentatious and boxy models that sat about five feet off the pavement and was tricked out with winches and floodlights and off-road tires, none of which looked like they'd ever been used for their intended purpose. And why _would_ they be used? Why would anyone living in this particular suburb of Chicago even need something like that?

Further, how could someone who lived in this mouse hole of an apartment building even _afford_ a $40k monstrosity like that?

And yet there it was. Friday, fifth day in a row. Sitting in _his_ one designated off-street parking spot, the only one he could afford to keep after Andrea took Cole and moved out. Technically, the apartment's rent included two spots, but he'd negotiated the landlord down to just the one and took to leaving his work truck at work, keeping one spot for his commuter car. He'd even managed to wangle a corner spot under a shady tree for his beloved little Prius.

Which now had no home, thanks to the gas-guzzling eyesore in its spot.

Chakotay parallel parked his Prius on the street and rummaged in the glove compartment for a piece of paper and a pen.

 _Look, asshole_ , he wrote. _You're in my spot. I don't know if you know it, or if you even care, but we commoners have to_ PAY _for these spots. I'll call my plate in to the cop shop one more time for an overnight permit, but if this gigantic piece of shit is still in my spot tomorrow, I'm going to the building manager and the cops with your plate number._

He folded the note in quarters, unfolded his lanky frame from the Prius's driver's seat, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. Ignoring the uncomfortable knowledge that the luxury Jeep really was a beautiful piece of engineering in spite of its gas-guzzling ways, Chakotay snapped a quick picture of the rear license plate. _At least there's no Trump sticker_ , he thought. Then he stalked around the vehicle to place the note under the driver's side windshield wiper…just as the driver's door popped open.

Involuntarily, his fist clenched around the note.

Angry as he was, he had no desire to confront the Jeep's owner personally. Those kinds of encounters tended not to end well for him, as satisfying as they could occasionally be. No, he had his dream job to think of now, and his hard-earned reputation for being one of the more levelheaded members of the neighborhood.

Further, a recent arrest for assault wouldn't look good when the custody hearing rolled around.

Chakotay sighed and took a step back from the SUV.

He stopped in his tracks when a pair of delicate feet in bright red Keen sandals emerged from the driver's seat.

Delicate feet attached to smooth, muscular legs that slid out of the seat and went on approximately forever.

Chakotay slipped the note into his pocket.

The feet, with their gorgeous legs attached, landed on the curb next to the SUV. The legs were attached to a pert backside in a pair of khaki cargo shorts, topped with a sky-blue blouse and a mass of windblown reddish-brown hair. The woman reached into the SUV and pulled out a beat-up leather backpack and a bottle of water while Chakotay stood there watching, mouth slightly agape.

 _Turn around_ , he implored her. _Turn around so I can see your face_.

She did.

Blue eyes, strong jaw, full lips, freckles.

Chakotay smiled.

"Um, excuse me," he said, and took a step toward the woman as she slammed the SUV's door shut. "Do you live here?"

Instantly on the defensive, the woman raised her chin. "Why do you want to know?"

Chakotay raised his hands and took a quick step back. "Because I live here, and you're in my parking spot." He nodded to the numbered sign in the grass in front of the SUV. "See? Number 101. This one's mine. If you live here, you're paying for your own spot whether you know it or not. The number will be in your lease."

The woman gave him a crooked, sheepish smile, apparently relived he wasn't a stalker but chagrined that she'd been caught out. "I know this spot isn't my assigned spot. I'm sorry. But I just…" She gestured to the SUV. "It's not actually mine. I mean, it is mine _now_. It belonged to my ex. See, the thing is…" She bit her lip and looked up at him, then stepped down from the curb to the pavement. She gestured back to the driver's side door handle, which was just below her eye level, and the bottom of the door, which was well above her knees. The woman was _tiny_. Barely over five feet, he realized, and just about the cutest thing he'd ever seen.

Chakotay blinked once, twice, and chuckled. "This _is_ a lot of car for…"

"For such a little person. I know."

"And you like to park here in the corner so you can…slide down to the curb?"

"And reach the damn door handle." The woman sighed. "I know. It's silly. But if I'm going to have to drive this monstrosity, at least I don't have to look like a child getting in and out of it."

He smiled. "Okay, I get it. You can keep the spot."

"Oh, no!" she said. "It's yours, fair and square, and I do have my own." She raised the key fob to unlock the vehicle. "Let me just move it for you, so you can -"

"You can keep the spot," Chakotay said again. "If you'll…tell me your name?" He gave her the most earnest look he could muster.

She cocked her head to one side and gave him a long, slow once over. Chakotay would have blushed if his coloring had allowed it. "It's Kate. Kate Janeway. You?"

"Chakotay." She raised her eyebrows in clear expectation of a second name, but he shrugged. "Just Chakotay."

"I see, Mister, ah, _Chakotay_."

The way she said his name made his head spin for just a moment. When he'd recovered himself, he gestured toward the apartment building beyond the parking lot. "So you do live here."

"Just moved in last weekend," she said. "The divorce has been final for a while, but I just managed to sell the house."

"So you got the house and…this?" He rapped his knuckles against the Jeep's side.

"Yes. I got the house, the car, and the dog. He got the blonde."

Chakotay laughed. "Sounds equitable to me. You have a dog?"

She stepped toward and around him to the back of the SUV. Chakotay got a whiff of lilac and vanilla as she passed by. It was an unusual and intriguing combination. She opened the double back doors to reveal a wire dog kennel, and inside it, a gorgeous Siberian Husky. "Wow," he said.

Kate smiled and unlocked the kennel. "Isn't she stunning? The blue eyes get you every time."

"They sure do," he said, and was gratified to see a faint flush cross Kate's cheeks.

As soon as the door was open, the dog stood and walked to the end of the deck, where she paused and looked expectantly at Kate. "Down, Cyrie," she said, and the dog hopped down to the pavement.

"Cyrie, this is Mister Chakotay." She leaned toward the dog's ear. "Just Chakotay," she said in a stage whisper. "One name, just like you."

Chakotay chuckled and leaned down to scratch the dog's head. "You're beautiful, Cyrie," he said, and then _he_ leaned down to whisper in the dog's ear. "Just like your Mama."

When he turned to gauge Kate's reaction, he found her with her hands perched on her hips, one eyebrow raised. "Are you flirting with my dog to get to me, or is this something you always do?"

He straightened and looked down at the petite redhead. She really was just about the cutest thing he'd ever seen. "Whatever works," he said.

"Hmmm," she sniffed. She paused, looking up at him, and then nodded once as if she'd come to a decision. She closed the Jeep's doors and pulled a blue nylon leash from her backpack. "Help me walk the dog?"

"Wouldn't miss it," he smiled.

By the time they reached the dog park at the end of the street, he knew she taught physics at Northwestern, spoke fluent French and Spanish, and was recently divorced from a very wealthy businessman in the throes of an epic midlife crisis - hence the blonde and the SUV.

By the time they reached the coffee shop six blocks over, she knew he had just started his own carpentry business, was determined to get full custody of his son from his ex-girlfriend, and had a deep passion for environmental issues - hence his six-foot frame folded into a Prius for the daily commute to his workshop.

By the time he made her French toast for breakfast, they'd decided to sell the SUV and use the cash to put a down payment on a house…one with plenty of off-street parking.

###


End file.
